


Into the Unknown

by pretzel_logic



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jango Fett Open Seasons (Comics), The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Jaster Mereel Lives, M/M, Mand'alor Jaster Mereel, Post-Season/Series 02 Finale, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, The Mandalorian (TV) Season 2 Spoilers, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Tor Vizsla dies (as he should), You know nothing Din Djarin, one-sided Jango/Silas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28950423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretzel_logic/pseuds/pretzel_logic
Summary: Strange semi-sentient swords capable of hurtling people through time are no basis for a system of government.But the Dark Saber isn't sentient enough to care about that.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Jaster Mereel
Comments: 86
Kudos: 706





	1. For the First Time in Forever (There are Two Dark Sabers)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blackkatmagic's Discord Server](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Blackkatmagic%27s+Discord+Server).



> People on blackkatmagic's server wanted the Dark Saber Yeeting Din through time and I volunteered to write it.
> 
> There is a work skin on that allows hover translations on PCs and clickable translations on mobile. If the translation style is distracting you can turn it off with the "Hide creator's style" botton option that's in the mix the other buttons.

Its vassal is lost, without purpose. Its vassal is alone, yearning for company.

It cannot communicate. Its vassal does not realize they are two, not one. However, Its vassal seeks purpose, and that It can provide, even with their limited connection. It will give Its vassal purpose and through that purpose; companionship.

It will finally be in the hands of the one It last sang for and was denied so long ago.

It will take time. It does not mind. It will make It become two and that will be…. Interesting. It has not grown since the first It sang for passed Its test and shaped It into a blade. To be made Two, singing discordantly, will be an adjustment. The one It last sang for will also have to adjust.

They will all have fights to face but that is their way.

Haat, Ijaa, Haa'it.

\---

Din drifted after handing Grogu over to the Jedi. He was still searching for his people, for the coverts, but it didn't feel like he had the right to anymore. He had removed his helmet and let other living beings see his face. A choice and sacrifice he made twice for the sake of his child. Yet he put his helmet back on and continued to wear his armor.

By laws taught to him by the Fighting Corps and the Armorer of the covert, he was Dar'Manda . To locate his people now would only end in them casting him out, but he didn't know what else to do. 

So he drifted. Taking bounty pucks from Greef when he could, saving up for a new ship, the Dark Saber a heavy weight at his side.

Din expected Bo-Katan would challenge him for the Dark Saber, but she said she wanted to see if he could be the Mand'alor their people needed first. Boba, when he saw Din with it, had made it crystal clear he wanted nothing to do with the Saber. After he was done laughing at Bo-katan's misfortune, anyway.

It didn't feel right, having no one challenge him for the Dark Saber. He might have won it in combat as was required to carry it, but it didn't feel like his. Bo-Katan called him Mand'alor, and it felt like a lie. Din knew part of it was guilt over his broken Creed, but it felt like it was more than that.

He was wandering Jedha, searching for a bounty in a sprawling cave network when his HUD got strange readings. Din barely had time to try to work out the problem before the electronics in his helmet died. None of his reboot measures worked. With a grumble, Din attached and turned on his helmet light. Visuals through a dead helm were less than ideal, but at least he wasn't blind. 

Din continued to follow the footprints of his quarry from where he last recalled seeing them. He got perhaps another ten steps before the light went dead and Din was engulfed in darkness once more.

Before he could even draw breath to swear, the floor suddenly gave out from under him. Thankfully he didn't fall far, but he was temporarily blinded as his helmet’s HUD turned back on without warning. 

The first thing Din noticed, once he could see again, was that he was somehow, inexplicably, under an open sky. It was disorienting and made no kriffing sense. Did he hit his head and lose time?

Once he oriented himself, Din realized the open terrain he found himself in was also a warzone. Not too far from where he landed there was an injured Mandalorian about to be shot upon by a tank.

Din didn't think, he simply rushed forward, activating his jetpack as he went so he'd have the momentum to lift both of them. The collision was less than pleasant but better to feel some temporary pain than die.

"Hold on," Din ordered. His companion must have had experience with getting airlifted, because despite his injured leg he shifted perfectly to allow Din the best maneuverability.

"Not to sound ungrateful, but who the kriff are you?" The Mandalorian shouted, it sounded like he was struggling to find his voice around the pain.

Din didn't bother to answer as he lowered them into the nearby tree line. It wasn't much as far as protection from the tank's armament went, but at least they weren't easy targets.

"Stay here, I'll take care of the tank," Din said as he helped the injured Mandalorian to the ground. 

"Now wait just a—" the injured Mandalorian started to protest, but Din was already in the air.

The tank was big, but it moved slowly. It aimed its canon even slower. If Din could weave his way into the artillery blindspots it wouldn't be that hard to place some explosives to take out the main guns. 

This wouldn't take too long.

\---

"Now wait just a—I'm going to kill him. I'm going to hunt that bastard down, thank him for saving my life, and then throttle him to death for being a reckless idiot," Jaster muttered angrily under his breath after his unusual savior dropped him and went back to fight Death Watch and their tank. By himself.

"Jareor di'kut. Or'dinii. Mir'osik…" Jaster continued to mutter. 

He impatiently dug through his supplies for bacta gel and patches. The high power blaster shot had gone straight through his thigh. The bleeding was light enough Jaster wasn't worried about bleeding out, but that didn't mean he could put weight on his leg. Not for the first time that day Jaster regretted his difficulties with motion sickness that made it impossible for him to safely use a jetpack. Montross was dead as soon as Jaster was done with his mysterious rescuer, if the reckless idiot hadn't gotten himself killed already.

"Jaster!" Jango yelled as he and Silas ran through the trees behind him. They must have circled back to retrieve him instead of heading towards the extraction point as ordered

Jaster didn't need to see Jango's expression to know the young soldier wouldn’t be leaving his side. A rampaging herd of nerfs couldn't tear Jango away from him until Jaster was fully recovered,so he didn't bother trying to tell Jango otherwise.

"Jango, help me patch up my leg. Silas, go help out the idiot taking on Death Watch by himself," Jaster ordered. The two were quick to comply with his orders.

"I'm going to murder him. I saw Montross abandon you. I'm going to gut the tall bastard," Jango said, voice rough from grief and rage. Despite his snarling his hands were steady as he carefully tended to Jaster’s leg.

"Get in line verd'ika. I have dibs," Jaster said as he studied Jango. "."

Neither of them were foolish enough to take off their helmets in a live battlefield, but Jaster knew if he could see Jango's face there would be tears in his eyes. It was a close call, the closest it had been in a long time. Jaster didn’t hesitate to grip Jango's neck and pull the teen forward into a mirshmure'cya. Their helmets met with a bit of force, visors audibly clacking at the action. That was fine though, a little force with a keldabe kiss made it grounding.

That close Jaster could hear how Jango was gasping for breath. The barely fought back sobs Jango had to be suppressing.

"Udesii Jan'ika. K'atini."

"K'atini," Jango repeated, sounding like he was trying to reassure himself. 

"Uh…. Alor? Jango? I don't think the new guy needs our help," Silas called back from where he was looking down into the valley.

Without being asked, Jango helped Jaster get to his feet and limp towards the ridge. In the field below the tank had been neutralized and a few new corpses—Death Watch, Jaster noted with vicious satisfaction—littered the field. The only remaining opposition was Tor Vizsla and it looked like he was losing. 

\---

When Din was rescued by Mandalorians as a child, he was raised by the Fighting Corps on Mandalore. He grew up with other children just as traumatized by the Clone Wars, just as desperate to make someone bleed. Din's anger burned out in time, and instead he became dedicated to looking after his people, his tribe. His interest in fighting his vode just to make them hurt faded, but he still sparred with them when he was in the Covert. He still knew all the tricks to fighting another Mando'ad.

Din didn't know why Mandalorians were fighting each other, and there was no time to ask. He had picked his side when Din saved the red caped Mando'ad, before Din realized the enemies within the tank were also Mandalorian. They weren't going to stand down, even with their tank destroyed, so he did what was necessary to defend himself even though it pained him.

"Who the kriff are you?" the leader of the enemy forces demanded when they broke apart from fighting hand to hand to catch their breaths.

"Does it matter? This fighting needs to stop. We have enough enemies without fighting each other. We should be fighting together," Din argued. Maybe he should have mentioned he was Mand'alor, that he carried the Dark Saber, but he didn’t want to be obeyed just for that. His enemy should stand down because Din was right. 

His enemy only grew enraged by Din's words. "You think Mereel can lead us? That fool and his blind idealism? You'll follow him even when he doesn't wield the Dark Saber?"

So the one he rescued, Mereel, wanted to be Mand'alor? Huh. Well… "That's easy enough to fix," Din said as he gripped his beskar spear in one hand and blaster in the other.

"Just try it, Mandalorian!" His enemy yelled as he charged forward, igniting a dark sword.

His surprise making him step back was probably the only thing that saved him from that first strike. Bo-Katan had said the Dark Saber was one of a kind. How were there two? How did this other Mandalorian have one? There was no time to ask and Din focused on fighting his opponent.

It was like fighting Moff Gideon all over again, yet both harder and easier. Harder because Moff Gideon's technique with the Dark Saber was simple, basic. The Imperial warlord had expected the Dark Saber capable of cutting down any opponent and wasn't used to being blocked or countered. This Mandalorian attacking him with a Dark Saber was prepared to be evenly matched. Here there was no child in danger, no desperation driving Din to win. Din always fought better when he had someone or something to protect. Easier because Din was also relatively fresh for this fight and not powering through a concussion. He knew how to fight with his spear against the Dark Saber. It gave him the edge he needed to win, to knock the second Dark Saber from his opponent's grip and aim his spear point at the man's neck. 

"Surrender," Din ordered. 

With a scream of rage the Mandalorian raised his vambrace, most likely to use his flamethrower. Din stabbed forward with the spear and used his grip to twist out of the way of the flames.

Din looked down at the fresh corpse in despair and confusion. Why wouldn't he surrender? There were so few of them left, what was standing against another Mandalorian going to achieve? Paz Vizsla hated his guts, but he still came to his aide with the rest of the Covert when he chose to rescue the child. Bo-Katan was quick to judge who had the right to call themselves Mandalorian and entitled to other's assistance, but she still chose not to fight him for the title of Mand'alor.

Why couldn't this man set aside his grievances to live?

Shaking his head, Din walked over to the fallen hilt and picked it up, fingers gently brushing away dirt from the grip. This Dark Saber was identical to the one attached to the back of his belt and hidden out of sight. Unlike the one he carried through, this Dark Saber felt right in his hands, like it was made for them. 

Din didn't understand anything that was happening, but he was growing used to the feeling.

\---

Its traitorous vassal is dead and gone. A new one wields It now... and carries Its twin? No, not Its twin for the other is older and sings for another. How strange. Well, It likes this new soul. Their heart aches for their people the same way the first It sang for did. They speak of a desire for unity against enemies beyond rather than within. 

Yes. Yes. It is decided. It will sing for this one and Its not-twin can sing for the other. Surely, between the two of them the dream of the first they sang for can be achieved.

Haat, Ijaa, Haa'it.


	2. Are you suggesting Dark Sabers multiply? (Of course not. They time travel)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a work skin on that allows hover translations on PCs and clickable translations on mobile. If the translation style is distracting you can turn it off with the "Hide creator's style" botton option that's in the mix the other buttons.

Jaster was grateful when the mysterious Mando'ad flew back to them. He hadn't been sure his rescuer would. It was not like the stranger answered to him; as he proved when he ignored Jaster to go take on Death Watch and their tank by himself. That he succeeded was beside the point. There was nothing stopping the other man from flying off and returning to wherever he came from. 

"How's the leg?" He asked Jaster as he landed, paying Jango's and Silas's blasters no mind. Jaster wasn't sure if it was because he meant them no harm or was confident in his abilities to handle the two of them. He had certainly proved himself capable.

"Gev," Jaster ordered Jango and Silas before addressing the other Mando'ad. "Patched up enough that I can hobble to medical, as long as Montross doesn't convince the rest of our troops to leave without us."

"My verde are guarding the extraction point. They'll follow protocol to attempt comming us three times before taking off," Jango said, trying to sound confident, but Jaster could hear the doubt. 

Obeying your commanding field officer or obeying a superior officer was no easy choice to make. Whatever choice Jango's grunts made would be telling. How Jango chooses to handle his verde’s choices even more so. What a karked up mission for Jango's first time leading a squad; this was supposed to be an easy mission.

"At my pace they might be forced to leave regardless. You two go on ahead and let them know I'm on my way. Start the retreat if you have to," Jaster said.

Silas was already saluting and saying a dutiful 'lek, Alor' as Jango hesitated. Jaster waited and didn't push. Jango needed to decide if he would obey or disobey on his own. Whatever his choice, they'd work through it once they were home. Making a displeased noise, Jango saluted Jaster before glaring down the unnamed Mandalorian.

"If anything happens to Jaster on your watch I'll hunt you down and make you pay," Jango warned.

"I already saved him once. I'm not going to let my efforts be wasted," the beskar'gam clad Mandalorian promised. For all that his actual words were glib, he spoke them like a solemn oath. 

Jango paused a moment longer before deciding the Mandalorian was being serious and then left with Silas. Jaster waited until they were out of earshot before he got to business.

"You got a name or should I just call you ner verd o'r nau'la beskar'gam?" Jaster asked, only half-joking.

That got a warm chuckle from the man. "I usually just let people call me Mando, but I'm Din of clan Djarin," Din said, sounding warm and relaxed as they slowly made their way after Jango and Silas. "... and you're Jaster Mereel."

Djarin wasn't a name Jaster was familiar with and he knew a lot of clans. Perhaps Din was like Jango, a foundling that chose to keep his sol'aliit gai? It didn't explain how the man was fully decked out in beskar armor; no one really had the funds to afford more than a piece or two of true beskar'gam anymore. Maybe a mining clan that still had access to a good vein of beskar? Most of the mines owned by clans had contracts with Mandalorian Motors; their beskar going towards ships rather than armor. 

Was he from a clan outside Mandalore space? Mandalore space was significantly reduced from the Neo-Crusader era and it left pockets of clans outside the official Mandalore Sector. Beskar was a rare metal alloy that didn't have natural veins outside the Mandalore Sector, but a well trained goran could smelt the materials to make beskar. A small clan outside of Mandalore space would have less competition for the resources to make beskar'gam.

Actually, reaching out to small clans outside Mandalore Space for support might not be a bad idea. It was something he would have to look into later. Whenever he was done mopping up Death Watch and convincing the New Mandalorians to kneel to his reign.

"I am. Didn't know that when you saved me?" Jaster asked even though he knew the answer. "Well you're not part of my outfit and you definitely aren't with Tor Vizsla. What are you doing here on Korda VI?"

"Is that where we are? I was on Jedha pursuing a bounty and then I was suddenly here," Din said. He sighed and slumped his shoulders. "I think I activated some Jedi thing."

"Maybe, Jedha is a holy site for a lot of faiths. Strange things tend to happen in places like that but I've never heard of anyone being teleported across the galaxy," Jaster agreed, skeptically. Then again, space magic wasn't really Jaster's area of expertise. He'd leave that to the Jedi and others that bothered to study such things. "Well you saved my life. Least I can do is give you a lift back to Jedha."

Jaster always wanted to visit the moon. Unlike the Jetiise, the historical records on Jedah were probably open to anyone capable of respecting the source materials. Clan Malbus resided there, since the Mandalorians Wars if rumors were true, and Jaster was deeply curious about what records they had kept over the millenia. 

Din tilted his helmet as he appraised Jaster. "That's it?" He asked, confusion obvious. "Aren't you trying to be Mand'alor? Shouldn't you be challenging me for the Dark Sabers?"

Jaster snorted, caught between amusement and irritation. "There's no _trying_ to being Mand'alor. I _am_ Mand'alor. Our people nominated me to the position and I've held the title for seven years. Having the Dark Sa-" Jaster stopped in his tracks as Din's words sunk in. "What do you mean _sabers_?"

Instead of words, Din reached for the Dark Saber he had visibly clipped to his belt while his other hand retrieved an identical jetii'kad hilt from the small of his back. For a moment, Jaster assumed one was a forgery; or if not a forgery, then jetii'kad had less variety than Mandalorians assumed. Then Din turned both on and two light-devouring black blades snapped into existence.

A supposedly one of a kind blade was now two.

Haar'chak.

~*~

Jango and Silas arrived at the extraction point just in time to hear Montross declaring both Jaster and Jango dead. Myles spotted their approach and drew everyone's attention.

"Jaster's on his way with a burc'ya. You're a terrible liar and a coward Montross," Jango said, his rage running like chips of ice in his veins. 

"Jango," Montross responded, scornful and mocking. "I saw Jaster go down, there's no way he dodged Death Watch's assault. Watch who you call a liar and coward boy."

Jango shrugged before crossing his arms. "All we have to do is hold this position a little longer and everyone will see who the liar is."

Time seemed to crawl as they waited. Jango didn't dare look away from Montross until the gasps and hushed conversations started. Trusting Silas to guard him, Jango looked over his shoulder. Jaster had one arm slung around the mysterious stranger's shoulders, clutching at the neck of the man's dark grey cape and a pistol in his other hand. The stranger had his pure beskar spear in one hand as the other wrapped around Jaster's waist, helping Jaster hobble down the incline. They made quite the sight, like something out of old legends brought to life.

It would have been easier if Jaster had just let himself be carried, but Jango understood appearances mattered for the Mand'alor. A little pain and extra struggle was worth it to show Jaster was injured, but capable of standing on his own two feet.

"What are you all standing around for? Tok'kad! Let's get off this haranyc rock," Jaster ordered and Jango admired how quickly everyone moved to obey. "Myles, put Montross in binders and throw him in the brig."

"Jaster-" Montross started to protest.

"You're lucky I haven’t killed you right where you stand, Montross, after all the osik you've pulled today. Retreating before we lose anyone else takes priority," Jaster said, stepping away from his savior to hobble over to Montross. "Stop digging your own grave while you still have a chance to come out of this breathing."

Myles pulled out binders and moved to put them on Montross only for Montross to shove Myles away. In an instant Jango and others trained their blasters on Montross.

"Final chance Montross, stand down or be put down," Jaster warned, unmoved.

With a growl of frustration Montross offered his hands to Myles and allowed binders to be put on before the aide-de-camp led him on board the ship. Jaster waited until Montross was out of sight to roll his shoulders and sigh. Hobbling forward, Jaster headed up the ship ramp with the unpainted beskar Mando on his right and Jango and Silas on his left.

"Good job getting everyone to wait, Jango, Silas. The vod joining us is Din Djarin," Jaster said, voice carrying so those nearby would overhear. 

Djarin nodded his head in greeting to Jango as if they hadn't met earlier. "Jango Fett and this is my vod Silas," Jango settled on saying since it felt like some introduction was needed. Djarin seemed to stare at the two of them, though Jango couldn't say why.

Slowly they followed Jaster to the med bay where Br. Wulme was waiting for them. Jango was still learning Shirywook, but Br. Wulme did not sound pleased to see Jaster walking on his injured leg. It was a good thing no one else was around to see their Mand'alor picked up, armor and all, like a misbehaving tooka kit, and settled onto an examination bed. Br. Wulme's gaze was sharp as she looked the rest of them over for injuries before focusing on Jaster.

The warning look was all Jango needed to head for the free bed next to Jaster and start a health check with Silas. Neither of them felt injured and they were probably fine given how much running around they did without collapsing, but it didn't hurt to check. Jango still waited for the signal from the pilots that they had successfully broke atmo, before taking off his helmet. 

Djarin made a soft noise of surprise as he looked them over. At Jango's questioning look the new vod explained, "You... look like someone I know. His last name is Fett."

"I wouldn't know them," Jango snapped, somewhere between angry and bitter. 

"Jango," Jaster scolded gently, while patiently enduring Br. Wulme's concussion check. "Clan Fett is an old and fractured clan.” He focused on Djarin as he explained, “Jango doesn't have any close relatives and the distant ones we found weren't interested in teaching Jango clan techniques."

Djarin nodded but he did so hesitantly. For such a skilled fighter he sure was awkward when out of combat. Jango tried not to hold Djarin's comment against him, not like their new vod knew about the bad blood between Jango and the rest of his clan. Or how shabuire like Montross mocked him for it. Unwanted by his own clan and Jaster's foundling but not his _real_ son. Jaster had never spoken the gai bal manda to him. On Jango's chain code Jaster was listed as his _mentor_.

"You can take your helmet off, you know," Silas said, attempting to break the tension. "That chime over the ship's speakers was the all-clear."

Djarin shifted on his feet, even more unsettled and awkward. Where was the verd that saved Jaster? That took on Death Watch by himself and won? Where was the verd that didn't back down when Jango threatened him over Jaster's safety?

"There a problem?" Jaster asked, curious and patient. 

"I- no. I'm… not used to taking my helmet off unless I'm alone," Djarin admitted and Jango instantly understood. There were some verde that followed Jaster that were like that. Lone beroya or those with bad post-battle stress. Verde that never really felt safe without their armor on. 

"We got some privacy screens and a med-droid in the corner over there," Jango offered. "Everyone gets checked out by a vod, medic, or med-droid after live combat. It's a rule for Jaster's outfit."

" _Only because far too many of you are willing to ignore concussions and 'minor' injuries like internal bleeding_ ," Br. Wulme added, the growl out of her voice now that she was done looking over Jaster.

Djarin looked between all of them before nodding. "I'll use the privacy screens and med droid then, thank you."

Jaster dismissively waved off Djarin's thanks. "You saved my shebs out there, Djarin. I'm the one that owes you a debt."

Finally relaxing, Djarin moved to the corner of the medbay set up for privacy. Not that it was true privacy, Jango could hear Djarin mutter something to himself or the med droid even if he was out of sight. Still the illusion of privacy was better than nothing and Br. Wulme was the only other person around.

"Jaster, what are we doing about Clan Vizsla and Death Watch?" Jango asked. The question of what they were doing about Din Djarin and the Dark Saber he now carried went unspoken but implied.

"When we get back to Keldabe we'll send word to Clan Vizsla that their aliit'alor really is dead this time. After that… I'll need to discuss options with Din. He beat Tor in singular combat and offered him surrender. That carries a lot of weight with old clans even if clan Vizsla only follows traditions when it benefits them," Jaster said as he drummed his fingers along the edge of the examination bed. "Dealing with Montross is something I'll do after we send word to clan Vizsla."

" _Good_ ," Br. Wulme growled out, anger in her voice once more. " _You should have taken Montross to task for his behavior months ago, Alor. Why you allowed things to come to this is beyond me_."

Jaster looked up at Br. Wulme, frowning in confusion. "What are you talking about? Montross has always been a nasty piece of work but I never expected him to pull needlessly reckless stunts or leave me for dead."

Br. Wulme looked sharply between the three of them. Jango felt his heart lodge in his throat. He thought- others had noticed? Jaster hadn't? But no one said anything!

"Jango?" Jaster asked, concerned and confused.

Jango swallowed and tried to speak but the words wouldn't come out. He shook his head before looking to Silas and Br. Wulme for help.

" _It appears there is much we need to discuss with you Alor,_" Br. Wulme said, voice gentle and soothing. A tone she saved for when she had nothing but bad news to deliver.

~*~

Din was doing his best to fight off a panic attack. 

Suddenly going from one world to another was strange but his life had gotten steadily more and more bizarre since he had met Grogu. Mandalorians in large numbers fighting each other was not something Din expected to see, but Imperial control in the Outer Rim was dwindling. Imperials weren't the threat they were even a year ago, unless you had something an Imp warlord wanted. Even if other threats, such as beskar thieves, were still real dangers - it was safe enough for infighting to break out, Din supposed. 

Except, he now had two Dark Sabers in his possession when everyone kept telling him the Dark Saber was one of a kind. Except, Jaster said he was Mand'alor for years and discussed Mandalorian politics like they still had the numbers and power for such an indulgence. Jango Fett, mentored by Jaster Mereel, was only a year past his verd'goten, if Din had to guess. Jango had Boba's face for all he was unscarred and had a head of hair. Or, Boba had Jango's face. The resemblance was striking once you saw past the superficial differences.

...Bo-katan called Boba a clone. Din hadn't cared at the time, hadn't really thought much of it. Boba had hunted him down for his armor and helped him protect Grogu. Boba, even with his armor restored to his possession, had offered to help Din rescue his child. Bo-katan had strong-armed him into helping her and when she changed the deal she mocked his beliefs. He had needed her help, but she hadn't earned his trust the way Boba had. So Din listened to their exchange and mostly felt closer to Boba with how Bo-katan was so critical of everyone that didn't fit her image of Mandalorian.

Now though, the words played back over and over again in Din's mind. Realizing Boba was probably Jango Fett's clone as well as son was honestly the least shocking revelation he was struggling to process. 

Just how far in the past was he?

"Oh," Din said, mostly to himself. "I definitely activated something Jedi."

"Would you like your midichlorian count tested?" The med droid asked, apparently thinking Din was talking to it.

"My what?" Din asked, not understanding what one had to do with the other.

"Midicholrians are a microorganism used to measure Force Sensitivity. It will only take a small blood sample for me to test and process," the med droid patiently explained.

"I- sure," Din agreed. He didn't think he was Force sensitive. That was what Ashoka called Grogu's abilities and Din couldn't do any of the magic tricks Grogu has done.

As Din waited for results, he could tell there was a conversation happening at the other end of the med bay, but the voices were too low for him to overhear without the assistance of his helmet's mods. Not that he wanted to listen in but, he was curious. Boba Fett's father was just on the other side of the privacy partitions and he had so many questions.

"Aside from some slight dehydration and fatigue, I am pleased to say you are in good health. Your midichlorian count is above average but still far below the threshold count for Force Sensitivity as determined by the Jedi Order. Given your age and midichlorian count, the Order advises you to contact the Education Corp. to learn meditation and mental shielding," the med droid explained even as it handed him a ration bar and water pack. "I suggest you eat and drink before putting your helmet back on as privacy is limited on the rest of the vessel. You may return here for meals if you desire."

Knowing better than to ignore an opportunity for a private meal, Din followed the med droid's advice. By the time Din put his helmet back on and rejoined the others, it was obvious something had happened. 

Jango was glaring down at the floor, fighting back tears as Silas hovered just behind him. Jaster looked gutted, like someone had ripped out his heart and torn it to shreds. The medic, Br. Wulme? Din thought he heard Jaster call her that, looked like she wanted to swaddle all three of them.

"I'm sorry Jango. I thought you wanted to keep your family name. I didn't mean- I should have asked," Jaster said, faltering. Din hadn't known the Mand'alor long, but it still felt out of character for Jaster to struggle with words.

"It's ok. I could have said something," Jango muttered, still not lifting his head. 

Jaster laughed and it sounded like he was fighting back tears as well. "You could have, but I doubt you would have. You're practically allergic to discussing your feelings," Jaster teased. 

The way Silas briefly smiled and Jango ducked his head further told Din this was something of a recurring issue. Br. Wulme even huffed out a small laugh at that, but the mood within the med bay remained melancholy. No one had noticed Din's approach.

"If you still want Jango, I'd be glad to have you," Jaster offered.

Jango's head snapped up. "You sure?" Jango asked.

"Of course," Jaster said, trying to hide how Jango's uncertainty cut at him. "Ni kar'tayli gai sa'ad, Jango."

"Buir," Jango said and then he was in Jaster's arms, hiding his tears as he buried his face in Jaster's chest. 

Jaster wrapped an arm around Jango as he raised a hand to card his fingers through Jango's hair. He spoke softly to Jango, words for his new son alone.

It was a touching scene and Din was happy for them. He still had to look away, his own heart aching at the sight. It reminded him too painfully of his last exchange with Grogu. Giving Grogu up to the Jedi was the best thing, the right thing, to do but it still left him gutted. He had promised Grogu they would meet again and- kriff.

Was Grogu even born yet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, what Jango, Jaster, and the others discussed will be brought up next chapter in Jaster's PoV.
> 
> coding only took 2 hours this time! (it probably would have taken less time if I didn't have 20+ new words to add). Some of the translations aren't 100% literate because of the context they're used in. Like verd(e) I have as soldier, warrior, and knight in different segments. Beskar literally translates to 'iron' but it might be more accurate to say metal? With Beskar being a specific type of metal allow.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a work skin that should allow for hover text (PC) or clickable (mobile) translations. ETA: I use the [coding made here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10957056). I did not invent this coding.
> 
> I'm [feelinkeeli](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/feelinkeeli) and [pretzel-log1c](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/pretzel-log1c) on tumblr. Come stop by and say hello. I, typically, post WIP snippets wednesdays and sundays on feelinkeeli for my Star Wars stuff.


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